Only You
by Owari
Summary: Malik is sick of watching Altair waste away in front of the apple and takes matters into his own hands - literally. He accidentaly makes a copy of himself and Altair gets more than he can handle. Until everything goes wrong.
1. Chapter 1

He was sick of seeing that damn piece of Eden! All day and most of the night it held Altaïr's attentions, it made the man abstain from eating, drinking – talking! It was like he was becoming drawn to the damn thing and he was content to be there…he was content to push everyone away in favour of the stupid little ball. It was one of those rare moments when the Assassin had to leave it sitting on his bedroom desk – unprotected – that Malik decided he had had enough. He was going to do what Altaïr had said he would – he was going to smash it into a thousand tiny pieces and scatter it to the wind. Snatching the ball from the desk the Dai gave it one last glare and threw it against the opposite wall. Instead of debris he was blinded by bright white light.

Altaïr stretched his arms above his head as he walked back to his room, finally he could feel his body again, the constant sitting and staring really was not a wise idea – especially with how angry it was making his lover. He opened the door to their shared room and froze in the doorway. Malik was in a heap on the ground, unmoving and seemingly not breathing. "Malik?" the Assassin moved quickly beside him and gathered the Dai into his arms, "Malik! Wake up!" he shook the man slightly, alarmed when his head simply fell limply back, "No…no…Malik!" Altaïr looked around the room helplessly for help but no one game to the top floors unless there was a problem. He held tightly to Malik's limp body and buried his face into the man's neck, there was no breathing, there was not even a pulse in his throat and this acknowledgment made it so that the Assassin could not even get strength into his legs to get up off the floor for help.

How had this happened? Wasn't Malik about to go bathe when Altaïr left the room? He was fine then, wasn't he? He had been griping about the apple and giving him a lecture on obsession. "Malik…" his could feel his lips trembling as he mumbled the man's name over and over into his dark skin, the constriction of his throat and stinging in his eyes made his curl further around the prone form. This made no sense, what had – his eyes zeroed in on the apple laying only feet away. He had left that on his desk…why was it… "You fool. You stupid moronic bastard!" knowing that the artefact was the caused of this cut deeply into his chest, knowing that if he had paid more attention, if he had destroyed it as he had promised – Malik would not be dead.

The master Assassin's sobbing soon caught the attention of someone else on the top floor, the other moved cautiously to the room and peered in through the door, "Altaïr?" the man's head shot up and around to stare at the intruder and for a long moment he just stared in disbelief. The intruder was also surprised to see the tears streaming down tan cheeks and the most forlorn expression he had ever seen. Altaïr looked down at the body in his arms and at the one at the door – he was holding Malik in his arms and yet…the Dai was stood in front of him. Malik approached him carefully and knelt beside him; his fingers reaching to wipe away the glistening tracks on his lover's face, "what is this?"

"I – i…I thought it was you? Or are you a ghost?"

Malik blinked dumbly for a few moments before pressing his mouth to Altaïr's, "I am living, you novice…but what is this?" he touched the skin of the copy and pulled away as if burned, "It is warm…Altaïr, what is happening here?"

Altaïr laid the body down gently and held onto Malik's robes tightly, assuring himself that this was his Malik, his living beautiful Malik. "Did you touch the apple? I left it on the desk but when I arrived it was on the floor as were you – or not you."

"I threw it at the wall and it blinded me – I was uncertain of what it might do so I staggered out until I could see again."

"Why would you do that? You know how dangerous this thing is!" Altaïr pointed at the body on the floor angrily, "That could have been you! I thought it was! I thought I could trust you not to do anything stupid…I thought you were dead…"

"I was sick of watching you kill yourself with that thing!" Malik growled back in annoyance – was his actual death going to be the only thing to stop Altaïr playing with the apple? "Will you listen to me now? Will you stop ignoring everything?" the Dai kissed him softly again, his fingers rubbing a wet cheek soothingly. Altaïr leaned into the touch, his mind reeling at the fact that he could still have Malik and that his heart was fixing itself with every press of lips. The fingers tracing up the back of his neck made him shiver in delight more than the ones on his face… Altaïr pulled away in alarm and stared at the empty sleeve on Malik's left. Why were there two hands on him?

Malik stared at the figure behind Altaïr, his double was sat up and slowly tracing the skin of Altaïr's neck. It was strange to look into his own dark eyes and watch himself lean in and flick his tongue where he had just touched; Malik held Altaïr still so that he would not shock the thing. "The apple can make copies of the person who uses it…it can make copies of dead men. They do not feel pain and killing them is the only way I have found to make them vanish – ah!" Malik glared at his copy as it bit roughly at his lover. "They do not usually act on their own; they follow the will of their master."

"Well, I was thinking about two things when I grabbed the stupid thing." He admitted as he pushed the copy away from Altaïr, "Killing you slowly and fucking you hard." The Dai stared at himself carefully and a slow smirk slid across his face, "it seems rude to simply stab him, he is awfully attractive do you not think?" pulling Altaïr up off the floor, Malik made him sit on their bed and the copy followed eagerly, pushing Altaïr to lay down whilst it worked on his belt. "He seems to like you."

Altaïr was tempted to push the clone away but it looked, smelt and felt like Malik – how could he deny the touches? "What are you thinking, Malik?"

"I am thinking that you need to stay away from that apple for a while. I am thinking that I am sick of being pushed aside and I think that your heart is still beating so hard against your chest that it is painful." He pulled his clone up by the hood of its robe and held it against himself, "I am thinking I am going to make you so tired that you will not even think about the ball." Malik had never thought he would want to share the other Assassin with anyone else but this new idea had him quite excited, without moving himself, the clone turned and kissed him softly. It was odd to kiss a man that wasn't Altaïr, after ten years of getting used to the rough stubble of his face and the smooth scar on usually chapped lips – this was odd. His own mouth held that sharp dominance that Altaïr very rarely showed him, his own tongue snaked and tasted and forced their kiss deeper, a moan falling from one of them as the awkwardness passed.

Watching the two Malik's kissing made Altaïr shiver. He wanted Malik to touch him, to prove he truly was alive and that this was not some sort of a trick. He sat up and tugged on the robes of the clone, pulling it to the bed beside him and then pulling down his Malik for what could only be described as a desperate kiss. His hands rested against the Dai's chest, a sigh escaping him when he felt the strong beating heart beneath firm skin and he could only pull him tighter until he was atop Malik's lap and his ribs ached at the pressure. "I will not ignore you again – not if it will make you do stupid things." Lips mouthed across his neck from behind and Altaïr was again torn. It wasn't Malik, this was not his Malik and yet he wanted to welcome the touches. "Is this not odd? To have something that looks like you with its hand rubbing against my crotch?"

"I do not mind it." He answered simply, he had managed to unclasp Altaïr's belt and dropped it on the stone floor with a heavy thump, "He is not a bad kisser." With another smirk Malik pushed his younger lover into the waiting arms of his double, enjoying the strangled mewl that escaped Altaïr's mouth when it was suddenly devoured by the other. He made quick work of the master's clothes, once the robes were undone and the white top beneath lifted, his copy wasted no time in caressing the bared skin; its fingers pressing into firm muscle and raking its nails across stiffened nipples only made Malik like his idea more. The clone knew what to do, knew what Altaïr liked best and it did not hesitate to display these skills – albeit a little too roughly. Moving forward toward the copy made it so that Altaïr was sandwiched between them, the tanned Assassin wrapped his arms around his lover with another moan but was disappointed to be ignored, Malik grabbed the clone's chin and made it cease the bruise it was making below Altaïr's ear, "Gently." He told it with deliberate firmness, "or I will make you vanish."

It seemed to understand and Altaïr sighed when the nails left the bloody gouges they were creating. "It must be the murderous intent you have for me." The younger Assassin said with humour in his eyes, "Get my trousers off, Malik, please before I burst through the seams…one of you is bad enough but two…two is driving me insane!" Malik unlaced the clothing lazily, smiling when another hand slid down and grasped the painful looking erection he had just released, letting the other pleasure his lover Malik went about removing every piece of Altaïr's clothing. The body between the two bucked wildly as he was stroked with quick and precise movements, the smell of Malik was everywhere, the man's hands and lips were attacking him relentlessly all over, one gentle and the other just a little too hard – an odd mixture that was making his tired brain and body become fevered in arousal. It had been weeks since he had last been intimate with the Dai, weeks where he was too tired to make advances and Malik too angry to accept his touches. "I want you – I want you now! Do not bother to prepare me because I will burn up before you re done!" he snapped abruptly after the clone bit across his shoulder.

Malik snorted silently at the request, Altaïr had never been patient enough for fingering ever since he found he could take him in with a tolerable level of pain. Still, Malik would never take him with nothing at all, the older man reached into the draw beside their bed and pulled out a well used jar of oil, Altaïr snatched it from him and with trembling fingers opened the lid. Realising that the clone would be in the way, Malik allowed Altaïr to pull his trousers down and slick up his length with the oil as he coaxed the other to move position until Altaïr's thighs were spread apart over the double's and he was leant back against it. "Enough, Altaïr." The honey eyed man released him reluctantly and settled on letting the clone kiss him hungrily whilst Malik pushed against his eager entrance.

Tearing away from the mouth that had held his captive, Altaïr moaned heatedly at the uncomfortable pressure against his body, Malik glanced up at him for barely a second to make sure he was alright before continuing to watch his cock sink into his lover, the hole stretching and swallowing him into Altaïr's body. "Hurts." The Assassin gasped through clenched teeth.

"I know." Came the simple reply as Malik settled himself to the hilt; he leant forward to rest his forehead against Altaïr's and waited for him to relax around the intrusion. Altaïr arched his back at the feel of the clone's hand renewing its efforts on his manhood, he had nearly forgotten that the comfortable warmth he was laying against was another Malik, forgot that the hot breath against his neck and firm prodding against his back was almost human. He cried out as his ever move caused Malik to rub that bundle of nerves inside him and he nearly cried in relief as the familiar slide and pull of friction began within him, easing the burning he felt in every muscle. Moving against one another, the two didn't notice the frown on their intruders face, the clone watched the two bodies roll and rub against the other with something akin to jealousy. Even more so when Malik's mouth slanted over Altaïr's and their tongues began to dance in time to the jerky thrusts that caused the tanned man to be crushed into the double's chest and push against its own aching length.

With the pressure against his prostate Altaïr did not note the missing hand stroking him or take any notice of the shifting body behind him until he felt the painful press of the other. He hissed in warning and his blunt nails dug into Malik's shoulder blades ad he leant into the man; Malik felt his lover's body tense violently and stopped his thrusting hips to find out what had happened. He glared at his double once he realised its plan and he simply shook his head at it – this was not something he had prepared Altaïr for and he was too far gone to even consider doing it, "Can you blame him?" Altaïr asked shakily against Malik's shoulder, "He has to watch us and not get any attention…" he turned his head to meet the dark eyes of the clone and he shivered again at the heated look he received. It wore the hungry look Malik often sported when he wanted satisfaction and the small whine escaping its lips made Altaïr's chest clench – he would never deny the other anything. "L-let him…I will get used to it."

The real Malik looked at him with alarm, "Altaïr! It might just tear you open! You said the damn things do not have any real sense of life – it is hardly going to sulk if you refuse!" unconsciously he pulled Altaïr closer to his clothed chest and continued to glare at the clone, "Let it deal with the ache."

"Malik…" placing both his hands on Malik's cheeks and kissing the corner of his mouth chastely, Altaïr pulled his attention away from the other, "I would never make you endure such an ache…I can not let something that looks like you – that essentially is you – suffer in silence. It will be uncomfortable at first but I will live."

The Dai growled in annoyance but did not stop his double when Altaïr nodded to it. He felt the Assassin cling to him, his hands fisting into the front of his robes, as another slicked member began to push against his already full entrance. The feeling against his own length was a little uncomfortable but the feeling was more pleasurable than anything. Altaïr yelled when the head slipped in along side Malik and his breath hitched as he was stretched farther than ever before – it hurt. It hurt more than he could usually tolerate and Malik made the clone stop to let the initial burn wear off, "Do you want to stop? Is it too much, Altaïr?" his lips brushed the soft tawny hair that rested against his neck, he could feel the hard puffs of air in the crook of his neck and he knew he should have refused.

Finally Altaïr found his voice and lifted his head, "It feels too much…though, I do not want to stop." Licking his lips nervously, Altaïr rested his head against Malik's and closed his eyes as he felt the other Malik force his way in slowly – seemingly understanding that this was painful for him. It seemed to be a long process, every time Malik saw the pain become too much on Altaïr's face he made them stop, he would not continue until the whimpering breaths calmed and quieted. When Altaïr's prostate was hit, the man moaned wantonly and shifted his hips for more of that feeling, "So full…I think you are bigger than him though." Malik chuckled along with Altaïr's breathy laugh and he wondered how much pain Altaïr was in – he could see it so plainly across the other's face, even if Altaïr looked and acted to be fine. "Move."

"Are you sure?"

"Move!" he ordered irritably. Malik hesitated but his copy didn't hold the same reservations as it began to rock its hips and caused both men to moan pleasurably. Altaïr leaned his head back to rest against the clone's shoulder and wound his left hand into its hair, his right hand reached for Malik's collar and pulled him forward to trail kisses along his jaw and down his neck. The three rocked together carefully, a hand on each of Altaïr's hips guiding him against their movements, just when Malik was about to give up getting anything out of Altaïr the man seemed to burst. His mouth opened in long languid moans, whines and mewls whilst his whole body seemed to snap to life. He moved erratically, not knowing whether to thrust down on the hot lengths inside him or against Malik's hard stomach for more friction against his cock – it didn't matter as long as he could feel that blinding pleasure as his sweet spot was plundered mercilessly.

They became soon became a mass of limbs and lips and tongues, sweat slicked bodies sliding and slipping as fingers tried to anchor themselves to something – anything! They were sure the entire fortress could hear the ecstasy filed, near wailing of their master as he begged for more and moaned at the feeling of being torn apart and put back together at the same time. The feeling confusing his lust addled mind as all he could see, hear, feel, smell and taste was Malik – it was too much and he knew he couldn't stand it for another minute. One Malik was enough, one Malik couldn't rip his mind and soul to shreds, one Malik was all he needed and he knew he could never love more than one Malik. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on the back of Malik's neck and he sought out the man's mouth desperately, wanted to catch his eyes and hold all of his attention before he burned to ash, "Malik, Malik – please, Malik!" the Dai heard the gasping pleas and tried to kiss him but Altaïr pulled his lips away, "Only you…" his breath hitched painfully as his body began to contract. "I love only you."

Malik's eyes widened at the confession but there was nothing he could do or say as Altaïr called his name and came hard against his stomach, the younger Assassin's passage clamping down impossibly tight around the two men buried inside him and causing both Malik's to climax with a loud moan. It was long moments until the stinging in Malik's back brought him slowly to reality, his orgasm leaving him limp and tired – making him feel the skin Altaïr had ripped across his shoulders. The clone had vanished and Malik could only guess that it had exhausted its power or simply destroyed itself through pleasure – who knew…but what a charming way to die. Altaïr was silent against him, his body unmoving but his breathing laboured enough to let Malik know he had not died through pleasure overload; the man moved them to lay down on the bed and studied his loved quickly to make sure that he was alright.

Altaïr was completely passed out. Something that had only happened twice before to him, only this time Malik did not feel smug or proud for making him faint. He felt heavy, nauseous almost as his brain supplied the words that the other had said, 'I love only you' Malik could only imagine it had been a spur of the moment thing. A result of too many sensations smashing together and making him lose his mind. Surely he did not mean it…it was a mistake. It had to be! The younger man groaned quietly as his eyelashes began to flutter rapidly and flashes of gold caught the light, he looked blearily at Malik for a long time, both silent and unmoving. "You told me you loved me…" Malik breathed out once he thought Altaïr could comprehend his words.

"…I…I do." Malik smiled and shook his head, it was ridiculous – those words should have been able to make his head beat faster and his mouth grin in a ridiculous way. Should have...instead they made him feel ill to his stomach and he tore his hand away from Altaïr's when the man tried to touch him. Altaïr blinked in surprise when Malik left the bed and headed for the door, "Malik?" he called after him in confusion.

"You make me sick…" he muttered without looking back, "Please recall that you have some actual work to do and that there is more to life than the apple."

000


	2. Chapter 2

The apple had sat abandoned on Altaïr's desk for weeks, a light layer of dust on its surface, the bed was cold, the blankets and sheets pulled off days ago, his diaries were abandoned and the large chair in the room was beginning to mold to the Assassin's shape. He refused to sleep in the bed, it smelled of Malik, the whole room smelled of Malik but he had no where else to sleep. Where was Malik sleeping? He could ask him but the Dai refused to speak to him of anything but work – he refused to stay in the same room. 'You make me sick' were those words truly what the man felt? After ten years of sharing their bodies, fighting and making up, looking after one another when they were sick or injured – was it worth nothing to Malik? Was Altaïr so wrong to realise that he loved the stupid man? At first he thought it was the shock of thinking Malik was dead, then he thought it was because of the maddening rush of pleasure he had experienced with Malik and the double but after a long time mulling over his thoughts. He realised that he had meant it. He loved Malik.

And Malik hated him for it.

Altaïr watched the journeymen as they prepared themselves for the leap of faith, they were no longer novices but not a single one Altaïr could see was trained enough to become an Assassin. Still he was content to instruct them, it made him forget for a little while that he was so utterly miserable.

Malik looked down at Altaïr from the balcony above, he had wanted some fresh air and after hearing that some of his brothers were taking their first leap decided to watch. He had not expected to see Altaïr in the midst, Altaïr hated instructing with a passion – so it was odd to see him so active in talking to each man; some he went as far as to show them the best position to leap. He missed him. Ignoring him was agony, seeing him in pain was unbearable and not being able hold him…it all felt so wrong but so were Altaïr's feelings. He should not be in love with him, and if it were truly what the man felt – he should have kept his mouth shut! Why did he have to ruin something that had been simple?

He watched as Altaïr walked to the end of the platform, he was facing the men and giving them the last few pieces of advice he could think of and explaining that the first jumps were best performed falling backwards until they were confident to somersault. He started to fall back and just as his boot left the edge, his golden eyes zeroed in on Malik and the Dai looked away. He sighed to himself at being caught – it gave Altaïr hope. Malik went back to the desk to finish reading through supposedly important documents, he was soon lost in his work enough to forget about those sad eyes staring at him; he would have liked to have felt the same. But it made his stomach flip and his mind reel at the thought.

"Call the healer!" the shout rang clearly through the main hall, startling the guards along the bookshelves and making the scholars look up in alarm. The Dai stood from the desk that once belonged to Al Mualim and headed toward the stairs, several men rushed into the hall carrying a limp body between them. A casualty already? "Do not stand there! The Grand Master needs help!"

00

The haystack had not been set up properly, it was not thick enough to cushion Altaïr's weight when he landed and it had taken a while for the journeymen to become concerned when the master did not spring from the stack. He dislocated his left shoulder, his ribs were broken, his skin was black with bruises and there was a large concern among the healers that he had broken his back. He had to wake up before they could be sure; if he ever woke up. Malik stared at the prone form on the bed, Altaïr had not opened his eyes for nearly a day, how could this happen? What idiot didn't check the stacks before starting the jumps…why were things becoming so complicated? Pinching the bridge of his nose, Malik reached for the other's face, careful not to disturb the bandages around his head, "I…" he closed his mouth and shook his head. It wasn't like the man could answer him; but it wasn't like that mattered, "I think you are a bloody fool. We had something so easy…then…why could you not have kept your stupid mouth shut? Why did you have to tell me you loved me? Do you want to ruin your life you moronic, donkey minded, irresponsible arse!" he clenched his fist in anger and pulled it from the man's face, "You ignored me for years and then treated me like I was nothing. You ruined my life; you took my arm and my brother! Now you love me? How does that work?"

In his sudden rage Malik had grasped the loose top Altaïr was wearing and fisted it angrily, the force lifting Altaïr from the bed, "After last time how did you expect me to react? Open your damn eyes and tell me what I am supposed to do you little mongrel bastard!"

"Stop it, Malik!" the Dai whipped his head around the stare at the woman who had just entered the room, "Glare all you want but do so after you have put him down, do you want to damage him more?" the woman pushed past him to right Altaïr's clothing and posture in the bed, "I know he is dear to you, I know you are worried but yelling at him will not work this time…especially if his mind is jelly."

"It was jelly before he fell." She smiled at his comment, it didn't go to her eyes and that worried the Dai. This woman had been a healer for as long as he could remember, she used to be in the garden but they found her too talented – this woman helped him whilst they sawed his arm off…even dealt with his anger afterwards. "You really are worried…"

She nodded slowly, "Blood from the eyes and ears is never a good sign, Malik…no damage can be felt but it all depends how he landed. A lot of damage was done to his shoulders, maybe he noticed there was a problem and tried an emergency landing…maybe he passed out again – who knows what he was thinking as he fell."

Malik shut his eyes and sat down again, 'he was probably thinking – he hates me.' Was the only thing going through Malik's head as the healer explained what they all thought about Altaïr's condition, "Wait." He interrupted, "Passed out again? Was he ill? He had been to see you previously? When?"

"This last week he has been sick…I thought you would have known. Ever since you two decided to get along again you are inseparable." She made herself busy with checking every bandage, "He came to me about a week ago; he had been blacking out. I told him it was because he was sleeping enough, he looked awful – can you not see the bags under his eyes? Not to mention he hardly ate a thing. I ordered him to sleep and eat…so he promptly ignored me. Stupid man was acting like his favourite dagger had broken…or that he had maybe…"

"'Maybe' what? Spit it out, woman."

"Had his heart broken?"

00

Groaning in satisfaction and letting a violent shudder run up his spine as he felt Malik come inside him, Altaïr laid down against the man's chest to catch his breath. They both yelped suddenly when a blanket was thrown over their bodies, "Why is it every time I walk into our room, one of you is balls deep in the other?" Kadar sat at the desk in the corner and began studying what he had learnt that day, "Most twelve year olds do not have to be exposed to such things…but no – I get the eternally horny room mates. What would father say?" he said in mock tragedy.

"He would say, 'shut the hell up, novice.'" Replied Malik lazily as he stretched out on the bed, not bothered that his poor brother was traumatised daily ever since he had found out the two were having sex – they had developed an interesting lie that Kadar had believed…until he was told all about puberty and sex. To which he'd run into their room and announced that they weren't practicing horse riding techniques. Altaïr had burst out laughing until he had cried whilst Malik flapped his mouth like a drowning fish and changed colour. "Did you remember to pick up Altaïr's robes on your way up?"

Kadar gasped and stared at them wide eyed, "I forgot! You need them for the ceremony later – I will go get them now!" he ran out of the room, skidding into the door opposite before vanishing.

"I hope he never grows up." Altaïr smiled fondly after him, "I should probably get ready…" he was frowning slightly, enough to make Malik catch his wrist before he left the bed.

"For someone who is about to become a master Assassin…you look miserable."

"Malik. They are going to cut my fucking finger off…cut – it – off. You would be miserable too! I will be the only twenty two year old in Masyaf with nine fingers – "

"Seven fingers and two thumbs actually." He accepted the golden eyed glare with a grin and sat up to lean on Altaïr's shoulder. "You deserve this…maybe not having your finger cut off but becoming such a high rank. You can officially boss me around and there is nothing I can do about it…outside this bedroom." He kissed a tanned shoulder for a long while, waiting for the other to relax or smile.

Altaïr didn't have the heart to smile, "I get my own room, I will be on more missions than ever before – solo missions. I do not have to do my own investigations anymore, the master will train me personally and did I mention that they are going to cut off my finger?"

"Sounds awful." Came Malik's sarcastic reply, "I can always come in your room."

"Do you mean; 'come TO your room'?"

"No." they both chuckled quietly, "Anyway, get dressed before I want you again."

Altaïr turned his body to face Malik and kissed the man soundly, the older man only pulling away when the tingle of Altaïr's stubble became too much. "I want you again…this last time before I go to the ceremony." He didn't wait for an answer as he pulled Malik down on top of himself, "I want to be able to memorise every piece of you." The look in Malik's dark eyes became a little wary at the gentle tone but he obeyed the next request for a kiss, still slightly concerned when Altaïr refused to up the tempo of their mouths. He was content to rub their tongues together leisurely and allow Malik unhindered control of many long, languid and deep kisses. It was highly unusual that Altaïr wanted to do anything slow, wanted to commit something so intimate to memory and had it not been for rough hands caressing every part of him the younger man could reach, Malik would have been suspicious of his motives.

Perhaps he was frightened of the ceremony, perhaps he was nervous of what lay ahead of him? it didn't matter to the older man why Altaïr was being so needy, it reminded him of how Altaïr had been as a teenager, when he was shy and depended on Malik's support nearly all the time – if Altaïr wanted slow and meaningful then he deserved it. Altaïr gave a tiny whine as he felt Malik push back into him, it was nothing compared to the earlier discomfort of being breached, it didn't burn or ache but the feel of the oil and Malik's semen still leaking out of him felt strange; it was something he would never get used to no matter how many times they had sex consecutively in a small amount of time. "I love it when you blush like that, seems you have some shame in you after all."

"Sh – shut up…I am concentrating."

"…I do not think you can concentrate whilst walking so how you will do it now is beyond me." Malik grinned wickedly before continuing, "I think I should test you…what can you feel right now?"

Altaïr opened his eyes and glared at the man, "Annoyance," Malik smirked down at him and gave the smallest of thrusts to make them both moan, "I can feel you moan, every little vibration running along my skin like flames…and your – " Malik let out a heavy pant as he felt the man's walls clamp around his length, a smug look came over the younger's face, "cock. I can feel it stretching me wide, I can feel every single inch of you."

He clenched again and this time Malik retaliated with a precise jab to his prostate, "How about that?" he teased as he continued to rub against that spot, enjoying the way it made Altaïr thrash on the mattress and keen loudly, he leant down to nibble at his neck and slid his tongue up to tease his ear, "You may be better as a master Assassin but I will always be master of your body." Somehow he figured that the whorish sounds coming from Altaïr's mouth was acquisition of the statement. He continued to make red bruises low on Altaïr's neck, hiding them from prying eyes, pistoning leisurely in and out of his lover until Altaïr's hand curled around his, forcing their fingers to link. He had never done that before – ever.

When Malik looked at his face he couldn't help but slow his movements; it was a look he had not seen since the first time they had been together. It was that look of, 'is this alright? You will not hate me, will you?' It was so odd to see this strong man looking unsure, looking for some sort of approval, "I think I love you, Malik."

"w-what…?" he blinked dumbly, grateful for this being their second time otherwise he would have ignored him and continued to fuck him desperately. "Did…did you just…are you serious?" Altaïr nodded sheepishly, his fingers tightening against the other, hoping that this was not a mistake, wishing he had kept quiet until he was sure of such a thing. He opened his mouth to disregard it – anything to make Malik stop looking at him like a startled owl and continue to move inside him, "Really?" his mouth snapped shut at the grin spread across Malik's face and the man covered his mouth in several chaste kisses before moving to deeper ones, his hips were unable to hold still anymore and he began a slightly faster rhythm than before.

Kadar walked into the room just as the men stiffened in orgasm and slammed the door behind him, "I was gone for only ten minutes! TEN!" he yelled at them as he threw the robes at them in embarrassment.

They ignored the fuming teenager in the room in favour of staring at one another, "I am sure I do…" Altaïr muttered.

0

He was made a Master that afternoon, taken away by a healer to have his amputated finger cared for and his things were collected from his room that same evening. Malik did not see Altaïr for a week, when he did Altaïr looked at him as if he were no one in particular; he barely said a word to him and dismissed him when he seemed to become bored of glaring. Altaïr did not visit his old room, Malik was denied access to Altaïr's new room, the man would not eat with the brothers, he barely spoke to them and when he did it was something snide or decidedly holier than thou. Malik had managed to pin him down three months later; he had kissed Altaïr and the man had grabbed him by the throat and threatened to kill him if he dared touch him ever again. When he questioned the man about his confession of love – Altaïr laughed. And then he had told Malik that he was seeing how well he could act; supposedly proud that he had tricked Malik.

Four years passed and to everyone it looked as if Malik and Altaïr were firm enemies, poor Kadar stuck in the middle. He admired Altaïr but he feared upsetting his brother too much. It was the biggest joke in the fortress when it was learned that Malik, Altaïr and Kadar were to be sent on a retrieval mission, there was a large bet going to see if Altaïr would kill Malik or Malik would kill Altaïr first – the funniest thing they thought at the time ; the two bickering into the sunset.

0

"Kadar?" Malik held his little brother as best he could with his injury, "Kadar…say something…" the young man sputtered and choked on his own blood, his hand reaching out and finding Malik's robes. It was quiet in the temple and he assumed the battle was over, had he heard the Templers run away after an order from Robert?

"D-did we win?" he had been blinded during the fight and he was holding a deep wound in his stomach – a pitiful attempt to stop the blood, "Where did they all go? Did Altaïr lead them away? He…he came back for us, right, brother?" the fist in his robes pulled desperately, "He would not leave us to die – I know he would not…do you think he will be alright alone?"

Malik held in a sob at his little brother's questions, how could he tell the boy that Altaïr wasn't there? He leant down an pressed his lips to his brother's forehead, "He…he will be fine…he led them away and he will beat them all – he is better than the rest of us, remember?" he tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he noticed there was too much pooled under his brother for him to live through this.

"Malik, show him this, show him it was not a waste to bring me…I practically begged him." he used his blood soaked hand to produce the piece of Eden; somehow he had swiped it from Robert before the knife ran across his eyes and the sword ran him through, "Am I still a novice?"

"No…no, you are the bravest Assassin I have ever had the privilege of knowing…I am blessed and honoured to be able to call you brother." He clenched his teeth as the hand weakened in its grip, Kadar was dying and he was still looking for Altaïr's approval. He reigned in his pride and took a deep breath, "Here he is…" he whispered to Kadar, "Hold it up for him to see, brother." He reached with his uninjured arm to help the teen hold the piece up, a small grin lighting his face as he looked so triumphant. "You should see him, Kadar…I know he is proud of you."

"T-told you…I could do it…" Malik stared in horror as his brother's hands fell limply to the filthy floor.

00

The healer approached Malik carefully after speaking to the head healer, "Malik…" the man looked up from his little reverie and he stood up to listen to what she had to say. "When I checked the bandages earlier, he was still bleeding from his right ear…and there a bruised coming up on his abdomen and chest…he is bleeding from the inside and there is no method to heal that. He is going to die."

Malik nodded slowly, he was numb all over and his brain was struggling to understand her words. Altaïr and die were words Malik was used to but add the words 'is going to' and it was impossible to process – Altaïr had fallen from higher places, he had survived fights with thousands of men and lived to tell the tale, Malik had patched him up from worse…Altaïr was too determined to die! The woman suddenly grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, "You know I will not think less of you if you cry." His hand hung limply by his side, instead of curling into the comfort being offered he stared blankly at the body on the bed. Altaïr was dying before hi very eyes and no one could do anything. Had his mountain lion's nine lives expired already? Was he so torn up over Malik's reaction that he couldn't be bothered to fight this?

The Dai shoved the woman away and grabbed Altaïr's top violently as he gave him a shake, "Wake up!" he ordered angrily, "Is a fall really going to kill the great eagle of Masyaf? Are you so pathetic that you will just die? You are supposed to be some kind of god! Are you going to let the entire brotherhood down? Are you going to let Kadar down? Wake up you self absorbed arrogant bastard! Wake up!" dropping to his knees he growled at the man caught in his grip limply, "Why is it every time you tell me that…that you love me…you leave? I do not want you to love me if it means you are going where I can not follow! You have promised to explain why you ignored me for four years! Or are you too much of a coward?" he let go and watched the body fall back to the bed, Malik bent his body in double, his head nearly on his knees as he began to sob loudly at the floor. He could feel hands on him, comforting him…they were not Altaïr's – he didn't want them. "Do not say you love me if you are only going to leave."

000

One more chapter to go.


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